Book of Dares
by somewhere in a neverland
Summary: In a cozy bookstore, Kurt has left a notebook, just waiting for the right guy to come and pick it up. But could Blaine be that right guy? And, if so, how can anyone last on a relationship like this? Klaine, AU in which they have never met.
1. Blaine

**_A_uthors _N_ote: This is my first story! *Cheers*. This story/fanfic is inspired by a book that I've recently read, Dash & Lily's Book of Dares - an excitable and cute love story type thing. I enjoyed it, at least, and this jewel popped into my brain. **

**I hope you all enjoy your time reading!**

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><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

_**Saturday, February 11**__**th**_

Imagine this little scenario playing out in front of you:

You are in your favorite bookstore/coffee shop, minding your own business as your eyes scan the bookshelf in front of you, where the book of a favorite author currently resides, it's black spine dark and ominous among the more bright and vibrant colored books that are snuggled beside it. You're about to take this book off of the shelf, when you notice a blue notebook sitting incredibly comfortably between the other books of the A-G section. It's strange, unusual, flamboyant.

_So what do you do?_

Your choice, I would think (unless you were incredibly watchful and/or uncaring for a rush in your life) is obvious.

You take it off of the shelf, open it, and read whatever is written inside.

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><p>It was Valentines day in Lima, Ohio. In other words, it was the time of year for every married or newly sprung together couple to trade powder candies in the shape of little, varied-colored hearts and fuzzy stuffed animals with red ribbons strung around their necks, and for all the singles to, well, wallow in their own self-pity. I always seemed to be strung at the singles section of the crowd, whereas all of my friends either have their boyfriends or girlfriends to enjoy the season with. Not that I hate the holiday; I actually could not hate any holiday - they were all good and worth celebrating in my eyes - but for almost every Valentines Day, I have been by myself, another single (I say almost because when I was in the first grade, I had asked my book buddy, a fifth grader, to be my Valentine, but that was only out of the cuteness factor).<p>

Not that there wasn't a bright side to this: the snow had become so thick, that Dalton and mostly every other school in the center Ohio region had been closed down. My parents, taking the holiday as an excuse, boarded the next flight for Poland, telling me that it was for 'business'. But, honestly, every holiday, that was the excuse. No one went to a business trip that often. But it wasn't like I cared anymore; after the first Christmas that I spent alone, only having my parrot as my comfort - my brother was at college - I learned I didn't need my parents to make a holiday enjoyable. It wasn't like I didn't know that they'd rather spend the holidays in some foreign country than with me.

This Valentines Day, I'm completely alone for the next few days, until Cooper and his girlfriend Alison come over from New York to spend it with me. Which, I'm not so sure why, it's not like they came for a more major holiday (Christmas, anyone?), but I would love to see my brother again. I haven't seen Cooper in about a year, besides the phone calls we sometimes exchange.

But often on this holiday break, as my friends and I have dubbed it, I find myself driving in the chilly weather to my local Barnes & Nobles, walking into the warm atmosphere of a respectful community of people, silently walking and browsing through the sections of books, only identified by a skinny brown, wooden sign hanging from thin wires on the ceiling, with it's proper section name printed in white lettering.

I was always one for reading. I've even dubbed myself as a book-nerd, as I am always on the spot with books, checking online to see what new books my favorite authors are publishing, and for other peoples opinions on a new book that I may want to try. Barnes & Nobles was my safe haven, where I could also get a complementary coffee whilst reading my newest purchase or flicking through a few pages of a new book to see if I could get into the mood of it.

On this Saturday, only a few days until Valentines Day, I decided to go to the bookstore in a profound search for one of my favored books. Even though I had already read it, I love buying a book that I've already read through, just so I could have it sit comfortably on my own bookshelf, and to grab it and fish through it whenever I felt that I had a part that I didn't understand or wanted to read again since I loved it so much.

I was perusing a favorite author of mine (Jay Asher, if the details are needed for any known reason), my eyes hardening on each books' spine as I scanned it up and down, looking for my book. That's when I saw it. A peek of blue, black spiral hinges curling out of it's back, where you could see between the separation of covers and the yellow-white paper in between.

My eyebrow quirked, my interest bordering a 'curiosity-could-kill-the-cat' like state. I glanced around the aisle, as if the rightful owner of this foreign book would pop out and demand that I'd kindly keep my paws off. Quizzically, I saw that I was the only one, but I didn't indulge any further as my index finger poked the top corner of the notebook, dragging the top out of it's safe shelf and into my hands.

A piece of cheap (and cheap as in: _I cannot believe you bought the Publix brand of cereal. That is very cheap of you._) yellowish colored duck tape was stuck to the top, it's end ragged as if someone had ripped it away from it's roll in a hurry, with the words 'DO YOU DARE?' scribbled in admittedly neat handwriting with a thin black Sharpie. I blinked, curious as to who'd leave this obviously home-made book in the bookstore. And how no one noticed before.

I opened the cover, slowly, as if I half-expected a picture of a nude woman to be taped to the first page, with a numberless quantity of others following, front and back. As I balanced the book between both hands, I raised both eyebrows at the small note inside, with the same handwriting as on the front cover.

_I've left some clues for you. _

_Would you like to play this game? If so, please turn the page._

_If you do not, than please, put this book back on the shelf._

I was almost positive that this was a girls handwriting. I mean, that neat, almost perfect cursive was too nice to be a boys.

I allowed my curiosity to take over as I turned the page.

_1. Okay, since I am no puzzle wizard, I spare myself the time and will be strictly titles only, perhaps some words inside of the book later on. Though, I'm not sure how you benefit. _

_I think that Are You A Princess? would be a beautiful starting point for you._

_1_

_Once you find the book and discover the first piece of the puzzle, _

_You can turn the page._

_And you must fill in the blanks along the way, too_

_(Do not write in the book, though, that wouldn't be much appreciated)_

My interest was, at first, spiked, but now I was not so sure as I saw the title of the book that this mystery person wanted me to find. _Are You A Princess? _I was thankful for the fact that my friends at Dalton were not here, because it'd be social suicide to be holding a book with that title in front of them. And the encrypted '1' at the end of John/Jane Doe's message was very unsettling and also very exciting.

I hummed lightly, contemplating where this book would be. I was sure it wouldn't be in the teens section, so I immediately walked down the aisle, moving around some people who were too absorbed in their own books to move themselves. The kid's section would obviously be my best bet for finding this book; just look out for a sparkly pink book with a silver tiara on the cover.

Small kids, all of whom were practically rampaging down the aisles like drunken midgets, each short stopped me as I made my way toward the girlish part of the books, where pink and purple books along with feathery accessories assaulted my eyes.

I moved around the kids, lowering down so I could get a more perfect view of each of the little girl books. Suddenly, poking out from between a thicker copy of _Fairytales for Every Girl! _and _Kittens & Ponies _was my desired book. _Are You A Princess? _was pink, of course, with the words scribbled in an italic handwriting at the center of the more wide than tall book.

I fished it out holding it and one hand and the notebook in the other. My eyebrow raised, quizzical at the challenge that this mystery person had left for me to complete. I re-read the note, narrowing my eyes in thought and contemplation. _'…I will spare myself the time and be strictly titles only…' _Oh! Obviously, the little number at the bottom was the first word that came in the title.

_Are _

I bit my lip, but than put the book underneath the notebook, turning the page as the mystery person had instructed me.

_2. If you found the solution, than I'm mentally congratulating you on this! _

_Since you've found this in the girls section, I must ask you: Are you a teenage girl? _

_If so, please put this book back on the shelf. _

_If you're a teenage boy, than you can continue this and turn the page._

Well, I was eighteen, and I did have the proper attachments to be considered a boy. I suddenly became even more curious, tapping the corner of the notebook page with an index finger at the writers choice. Was this girl (or possibly boy) attempting to possibly set up a date?

I blinked, before flicking the next page over, shifting my hands at the added weight of the other book, and scanning the next question.

_3. Sometimes People Like You Can't Say Goodbye_

_4/3_

Rereading the title, I immediately knew that this book had something to do with a nasty break up or so. Even with that little sliver of information, I knew that this book would be harder than the first, given that it could be in the teen section, romance section, or even the sex and sexuality section.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek in thought, a horrible habit that I'd picked up from a long time ago but I couldn't seem to stop, not even as the skin inside turned ragged and bloody almost every month.

As I thought, I couldn't help but notice the suspicious glares that most mothers were beginning to give me, watching me like a hawk incase I decided to turn and snatch up their daughters, or the few unruly sons that had tottered their way into the aisle.

After standing there and thinking for what seemed like half and hour, I sighed, giving the mothers a slight nod before departing the kids section, trying my luck to the front desk to get directions to this strange book called _Sometimes People Like You Can't Say Goodbye. _Traveling down the stairs and waving myself through the herds of book buyers, now, since it was 1:00, all of the families and nosy teenagers looking for a private hangout coming inside of the bookstore, I couldn't help but cock my eyebrow at the choice of book.

Had this mysterious person decided this book based off of a nasty break up? Parental or sibling troubles? Or was the title just something of their convenience?

I ignored some of the stares that I was drawing from the book in my hand, and continued toward the stacks of coffee mugs with the inscription of 'Barnes & Nobles' on them, pink and red to match the festivity of the holiday. The front desk was right in front of me, the man standing at the register giving me a suspicious look as I put the notebook and the princess book down.

"Excuse me, sir, I'd like to-" I was beginning to say, ready to ask the tall, straggly haired early twenty year old where the book was, until he obnoxiously cut me off.

"Are you seriously buying a princess book? I know you boys are obsessed with My Little Pony and crap now, but you're not seriously considering being a princess, right?" he asked me, looking disgusted.

A rumbling grunt arose from the back of my throat, barely audible over the steady churn of the blender in the Starbucks inside of the bookstore. "No," I began gruffly, my fingers slightly drumming on the counter top, "I was actually looking for a book. Sometimes People Like You Can't Say Goodbye. Do you know where it's at?" I asked, slightly hopefully, but still very annoyed with the clerk at his interpretation of my coming to his desk.

The clerk, Marvin, as his nametag read, gave me another weird look. "That's a chick book, kid," he said slowly, as if telling this to a child. This irritated me further. I may be a bit smaller than the other boys, but it wasn't like I was an ignorant child. I was extremely tempted to snarl my 3.8 GPA at him, but I allowed it to burn in my throat.

"So in the romance novel section, I'm guessing?" I asked, my fingers clasping at the sides of the notebook and the kids book.

Marvin nodded, his head gesturing to the stairs. I said a quick thank you, before walking quickly away from the desk, ignoring the lingering stare of the clerk as I disappeared around the corner and up the stairs.

I walked even quicker up the stairs, once again darting around the crowd of people at the stairs. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. Who knew a bookstore would be so crowded on a Saturday?

The romance section was, as I suspected, crowded with hopeful middle aged woman, curious teenage girls, and some wives with their embarrassed husbands. I immediately was out of place without a girlfriend - well, not that girls were my cup of tea, anyway - or another girl in general by my side.

I slipped casually into the aisle, before pausing as I looked at the mountainous bookshelves on both of my sides. I cursed inwardly; the mystery girl/boy had forgotten to mention who the author of the book could be. The books in my hands now brought up to my chest, I heaved out a sigh. But maybe not knowing the author was what would make this all more exciting - more fun for us both. Even though I can very well admit right now that I, for one, am not having fun.

The romance section was very…depressing, in a word. Not in the general sense of the books; the books were steamy, very lusty, something that probably every girl had dreams about happening to her. What was depressing to me was probably the amount of woman in this aisle, looking at the books, eyes growing wide and hungry as they read the back cover of a romance novel with no doubt something hot and steamy snipped into the middle and ending of the story.

I blinked unsurely, my hands slowly sliding against the books spines as I walked passed, keeping a surveying eye out for _Sometimes People Like You Can't Say Goodbye - _a book that I probably wouldn't have known to have existed until today.

I nearly leaped with joy as I saw it; a creamy-yellow-gray coloration to it's background, an oak branch extending out from the side with crisp autumn leaves hanging and swirling down into the world bellow. The title was printed in neat, glossy crimson lettering, cursive and exquisite. Though I was tempted, I didn't read the back cover incase the summary held something that'd become trapped in my head for the rest of the day.

Suddenly remembering my mission, I looked at the title of the book, for the fourth word.

_Are you_

I smirked as the blanks slowly filled, before once again frowning at the /3 at the end. I contemplated again, bringing the book closer to the face as if that'd help me discover what this person wanted me to find.

_Are you like_

Opening the notebook once again, I flipped to the page that I last read, smiling as the girl/boys' neat handwriting looked up at me.

_4. I will admit that you're a smart one. I have another question for you: _

_What is your least favorite school subject? _

Science. I always hated science. Everything about it - astronomy, chemistry, biology, the calculations, everything, had always thrown me off, since middle school when the classes for science had become more advance. My teachers would always tell my parents, "Oh, your son is bright, but it's just his science grade". It was always science. And I was admittedly sure that I'd never be able to fully understand it.

_5. If you said science, I believe that we're going to be getting along just fine, and you can turn the page. _

_If you didn't, please put this book where you found it._

Wow. So I guess Jane/John Doe and I have a lot more in common than I first thought. Respectively and automatically, I turned the page, the two books underneath the blue notebook shifting as I flipped it.

_6. There Is Nothing Wrong With Masturbation_

_3_

_113/9/8/5_

I'll admit, the rosy blush on my cheeks was brightly flamboyant as I read the next book that this mystery person had given me. I had almost no doubt that this particular book would most definitely be in the sex and sexuality section, where the gazes that were thrown my way were awkward, curious. I had no notion to ever buy a handy book in masturbation, so I was little to none surprised to see that the book was almost in full stock.

The book didn't have a disturbing cover; I had figured that if a young child had ever stumbled upon this book in their parents room, the people who'd published this book had thought two steps ahead and gave the book a plain cover.

But there was something different, unusual about this message in particular: the other numbers that the other person had used. I raised an eyebrow, slowly reaching up to grab the book off of the shelf. Well, the first was easy.

_Are you like nothing_

The message was a little choppy, also a bit dirty, if one thought about it in that way. I sighed, my hand running through my hair as I scanned the notebook writers' message a few more times. Curiously, after a few moments of silence, I grabbed the book from underneath the notebook in my hand, opening it and flipping to page 113.

I once again blushed heavily at the graphic photo at the top, before slowly looking down to paragraph 9. I chewed on the inside of my cheek again as I pressed a finger onto the side of the paragraph - making sure I don't forget where it was - while looking at the last two digits.

I exhaled out of my nostrils heavily, pausing from my cheek-chewing, and moving onto my bottom lip. After a few seconds of contemplating, I scanned line 8, and read word 5 - or, well, words.

_Are you like nothing I've ever had?_

I once again blushed at message, before looking back at the notebook, the three books that I had found for this mission underneath the blue notebook. Some people passed me by, giving me long, awkward stares as the saw the three books that I had beside the notebook. To them, I must've looked like a confused, lonely, teenage boy. I shook my head, turning the page once again.

_7. Now, this question is where things are narrowed down. If you are a straight teenage boy, than please put this book back where you found it (and please, if you're homophobic, keep your hate to yourself). _

_If you are looking for a possible boy/boy relationship, than please turn the page. _

_I think any boy who stands in Barnes & Nobles with a book on princesses, a book for lonely woman, and a book on masturbation is worth my time. _

I blinked, not blushing, but close enough to. Yes, it was a fact for anyone that knew me that I was gay. I was out and proud, but I still didn't make a big scene out of that fact anyway. But a relationship? On Valentines Day?

My eyebrow quirked, a smile gracing across my face, before turning the lined page of the notebook.

_So here we are. _

_Now, it's completely up to you whether or not you'd like to delve into a relationship. _

_From my understanding, if it's still that time of year, Valentines Day is around the corner, and singles like us shouldn't be single for long, right?_

_So here is what you need to do._

_Please go to the Starbucks. _

_At Starbucks, there's going to be a girl there with black hair and brown highlights - Asian descent. _

_Her name is Tina, and if you ask her anything about me, she won't pass on your message to me. _

_Give Tina a book, any book, it doesn't matter, with your email address inside of it. _

_She won't say anything aloud to you, she's pretty shy herself._

_I hope I can get back to you in time, _

_Kurt_

Kurt. The name was foreign, yet suddenly desirable on my tongue as I mouthed it silently, anyone who was extremely close to me the only who could've heard it. I blinked, contemplating whether or not I should be specific with my book choice, even though this Kurt said it wasn't needed.

Whilst browsing for a random book to grab, a small, devilish idea popped into my brain as I put the three, undesirable books on a random counter top. I quickly snatched up my book as I walked by, glancing around until the small Starbucks came into view.

For some reason, the owner of the Barnes & Nobles had decided to place the Starbucks on a slightly higher level than the first floor, a small wheelchair ramp leading up to the coffee shop with three steps for the able people.

Walking up the steps, I watched the workers at the coffee shop move around each other, handing coffee and accepting money from the people on the other side of their circular coffee shop. Scanning each of the workers, looking for the Tina girl with the description that Kurt had given him in mind.

I smiled as I saw her; wavy black hair with lighter brown highlights streaking through her hair, set in a pretty, Korean-descended face. Instead of my email, I had slipped something else inside as I gave it to her.

Tina's eyes widened slightly with what I believed to be surprise as she saw me wordlessly hand her the book, before she nodded, putting it in a small drawer underneath the cash register.

I walked away, a large smirk on my face.

_Two can play at this game, Kurt._

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><p><strong><em>A<em>uthors _N_ote: Yes, this story will be in first person, but it will have alternating POV'S throughout, between Kurt and Blaine as they pass the notebook around. And, yes, some New Directions and others will be making appearances from time to time in this story as well.**

**I hope you all enjoy! Have a fantastic rest of your day!**

**- Somewhere**


	2. K u r t

**_A_uthors _N_ote: Gahh sorry for the wait. I meant to get this out, but I couldn't find the time to write! Grr, I know, excuses, excuses. Well, here's the only slightly shorter following chapter! It shouldn't be too hard to follow who's POV this is, since it says it at the top, BUT the boys style in the way their names are at the top chapter is different...if you really care about that XD.**

**Anyway, thank you all for reviewing, favoriting, and story alerting! Your patience and positive feedback is remarkable :3 **

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><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

_**Saturday, February 11**__**th**_

I don't like Valentines Day.

I never really saw the point in it. I mean, why have a whole holiday dedicated to love? It was merely an excuse for stores to put up plastic hearts and have white bears holding red hearts up for decoration. And, if that wasn't enough to make you gag, you had couples walking around Lima, Ohio, making kiss-y faces at each other and being completely unorthodox about the whole matter. My step-brother, Finn, isn't really helping with my grump-like state by bringing his girlfriend in our house, the haunting sounds of them making out boring into my tightly closed door.

And if this Valentines Day wouldn't be bad enough, my step-brothers girlfriend, Rachel, decided to set me up. On a date. With another guy. I know that she only had the best intentions at heart, but I'm honestly content with my single life. Not having a boyfriend is pretty good by my books.

"It'll be good for you," Rachel informed me one day over breakfast (she had spent the night over my house; according to her and Finn, they hadn't 'done' anything, even though the wide smile on both of their faces the moment they woke up spoke for them). "I mean, who wants to spend their Valentines Day _alone?_"

Even so, after much protest and angered snarls from me, Rachel had purchased a notebook for me; plain, dark blue with a smooth surface and black spirals ringing out from the side. Nothing was written or designed on the front, except for the imprint of a small rectangle, sides rounded like a circle.

Rachel had begun this new notebook idea with a pen in hand, her tongue slightly sticking out of the corner of her mouth in thought as she tapped on a pages' corner with her index finger. I sat across from her at the kitchen table, giving her an non-amused expression, which I noticed that she pointedly ignored.

"Obviously," she began, opening the notebook and allowing the front cover to smack against the hardwood table, "We need to do something that's like a dating site, but isn't really, you know?" she had asked, grabbing a pen and poking it's tip on the lined notebook paper, looking at me.

I had sighed, of course, little to none pleased with Rachel's personal dating service for me to try and find Mr. Right. Rachel poked the pen on her tongue - a habit that I'd always hated - before she began writing something on the very first page.

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What are you writing?" I asked, leaning over the table a bit to catch a glimpse of the page.

Rachel didn't glance up, her pen moving swiftly over the page as it moved down to the next line space. "Writing an intro," she told me. Rachel continued to write down her 'intro', until the center of the first page was filled with a small, neatly written cursive that reminded me well of my own.

I decided to comment on it, despite it's unimportant quality. "You're handwriting looks a lot like mine," I complimented, watching as Rachel flicked to the next page, flattening the paper until it was sat gently against the cover.

Rachel nodded, glancing up at me with a slight smile. "Yeah," she said, looking back down at the paper. "I've been practicing at disguising mine so Quinn Fabray won't know who wrote the nasty stuff about her in the bathroom stall."

I opened my mouth to yell at her, telling her that she was practically insane, until Finn came into the room, cutting me off completely with his lumbering footsteps.

"What're you guys doing?" he asked, stuffing the slightly burnt end of his toast into his mouth, and allowing the crisp bread pieces to make loud, crackling noises inside. Rachel smiled a bit when she saw Finn, before looking back down at the notebook.

I sighed, resting my jaw on my palm. "It's her idea," I told Finn, a sigh escaping my lips as Rachel continued to scribble down a few other things into the notebook.

Finn blinked. "To write in a notebook?" he asked, puzzled.

Rachel just sighed, looking up at the two of us. "We're finding Kurt a boyfriend," she informed him, giving me a small glance. I rolled my eyes as Finn let out an excited gasp, pulling out a chair and sitting next to me.

"We're playing matchmaker?" he asked, smiling a big smile that I hadn't seen since he saw all of his Christmas presents settled underneath the large, pine tree.

Rachel copied his smile. "Pretty much,"

I put my face in my hands at the two of them as they continued to pester me for questions, asking me what I wanted in a guy, Rachel even asked what was my least favorite question.

I scrunched my nose bridge at that question, "Science," I answered, shaking my head. "I don't understand it." I added.

They had spent about four hours doing this, most of the time spent by them pulling me along as they browsed the local bookstore for books for the mysterious guy that'd pick up the book to look through. _Are You A Princess?, _a book that Finn had chillingly discovered, _Sometimes People Like You Can't Say Goodbye, _another one that Rachel had silently admitted that she had read before, and _There Is Nothing Wrong With Masturbation, _a choice that Finn had brightly picked and that still made me blush - these were their puzzles for the mystery boy to solve, asking the boy questions that'd narrow them down.

After they choose the books, they asked Tina, an old friend of ours, if she could pass on the message to me when a boy handed her a book without saying anything. Even though I still believed that this idea was pretty stupid, I was admittedly excited for John Doe to come and surprise me.

_You've got a boy, Kurt -Tina _

The text message took me by surprise when I checked my phone on a Saturday afternoon - the Saturday before Valentines Day. Of course the message was from Tina; her signature was at the end. I blinked twice, staring at it as if it were encrypted.

My breath hitched, a ball of anxiety growing in my stomach and feeling as it were twisting. Was it nervousness? Or was I too excited for this? I rose from my current sitting position on my bed, my eyes flickering from my phone to my bedroom door.

I grabbed my jacket from the end of my bed, slipping my arms through and zipping it closed almost immediately. Stuffing my phone in my pocket, I quietly slipped through the door, hoping that my father and stepmother weren't downstairs to investigate what it was I was doing.

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><p>"What was he like?" It was the first question that popped out of my mouth as soon as I walked up the small steps, and to Starbucks.<p>

Tina looked up from the cash register almost immediately, sliding over a cup of Vanilla Bean to the customer that had ordered it. After a few moments of counting change, she shrugged, answering my question nonchalantly, "He looked like a gentleman to me," she commented, looking up and smiling.

I hid my contented smile; I knew I could trust Tina's word on that. The girl wouldn't have lied to me about that, and I trusted her judgment on it.

She opened up a cabinet underneath a customers eye view, fishing out a small novel and passing it on to me. "Here," she said, watching as I snatched up the novel. "He left it for you, just like Rachel said he was supposed to."

I greedily flipped the book over from it's titles' position facing my hand, my fingers almost slipping against the glossed cover of the shiny, small novel. _Cujo _stared back at me, the grotesque, faded background picture of the snarling muzzle of the dog in question poking out underneath the bold red title.

I sighed, realizing that I had in fact said that I wouldn't mind any book of choice for my mystery man to choose. I walked away from Tina, biding her a small nod and a wave, before opening up the horror novel slowly, flicking through the pages in search of a flask of paper with John Doe's email address on it.

Instead, a small menu popped out from the bottom of the book, sliding onto the floor of the Barnes & Nobles. I bent over, picking it up with a quick hand, and flipping it over so that it's front could face me.

A Dunkin Donuts traditional napkin flashed at me, the orange and pink icon looking back at me. I raised an eyebrow, completely stumped. I flipped it around, trying to see if the mystery man had written his email on the back, in an obvious hurry. Blankness stared back.

My eyebrows furrowed in my obvious irritation. Who gives someone a napkin? I suddenly realized that my heart sunk into the pit of my stomach, sitting there like a block of ice that just would not melt. I sighed dejectedly, realizing once again that'd I be alone for Valentines Day. At least until someone else picked up the notebook.

Just as I was about to leave and tell Rachel that I didn't get this guy, and probably would have to sit through another grueling pep talk with her, a thought suddenly hit me, my eyes widening at the possibility. There was a Dunkin Donuts around the corner, conveniently, too. Could this be this mystery man's way of leading me to his email? I raised an eyebrow, unsure.

But it couldn't hurt, could it?

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><p>Dunkin Donuts was surprisingly devoid of any crowds. Even though the heart shaped, pink sprinkled donuts assaulted the normally fresh donut line, I still found myself enjoying a regular donut, sided by a complementary coffee.<p>

The napkin that this mystery man had given me held no clues as to why I was here. My fingers drummed at the table, staring at the slightly disheveled, white napkin with the orange and pink logo imprinted on it's front. I was completely stumped. Maybe this was all a joke; perhaps a homophobe, giving me false hope? Was he standing outside of the donut shop now, laughing at his cruel joke?

My teeth chewed on the bottom of my lip as I stared at the napkin, dumbfounded. My eyes left it for a moment, trailing up to the window that sat over at the West wing of the store. Regular street life buzzed around, cars honking, people walking, the usual. Suddenly, the Blockbuster across from me caught my eye, catching me off guard almost completely. My eyes widened.

I knew for a fact that the novel, _Cujo, _had been turned into a 1980's horror film (Finn and his friend, Puck, had watched it a few times in front of me, knowing that the gore made me cringe).

I bit my lip once again, unsure if I should walk across the street to go and check out a copy of the movie. I sighed, gathering my trash and walking to the trashcan, tossing out the remains of my coffee cup and napkin (the one that the lady at the register had given me, not the one that the mystery man had). Glancing at the other customers of the store, I walked through the doors, my eyes scanning the street as the cars flew by.

I followed the dotted lines that were painted on the streets, the ones that lead onto the sidewalk. I had hoped that, for this strangers safety, that he hadn't played some sort of joke on me.

The door to the Blockbuster opened with a click, the brass bell that hung above it's rim ringing as I opened it, stepping into the new air of the movie case shop.

"May I help you?" A small woman asked, looking up from the collection of movies that she was putting onto the 'Horror Movie' shelf. I turned my head to her, my eyes widening as I saw my movie at the end of the shelf.

I looked back to her, shaking my head. "Uh, no, I'm good," I said kindly, weaving through the too-close-together shelves. I rolled my eyes at them. _People at this store need to learn about 'personal space'. _The woman rolled her eyes at me, muttering something about 'annoying brats' or something. Someone must be spending Valentines Day alone this year.

I frowned at the realization: I was alone too. I shook my head. It didn't matter.

I looked over at the end of the Horror Movie shelf, smirking as I saw the brown movie with the baring fans of a rabid dog on the cover. I walked to the shelf, picking up the movie with a careful hand. I flipped to the back of it, checking for any notes, since there wasn't one smacked onto the cover. There wasn't one on it, much to my displeasure. A scowl formed on my face as I cracked open the DVD.

_This boy better not be playing a trick on me, because, so help me, if he is, I'll ask Tina what he looks like, hunt him down, and I'll- _"Hey!"

The new voice cut me off completely, making me almost drop the DVD case on the carpet. I looked up, eyes slightly frazzled, and frowned as I saw the small woman standing a few feet away, hands on her hips.

"Look here, kid, you're not allowed to open the case without buying it first," she told me, her voice a growl.

I blinked, staring at the movie in my hands. "...what?" I ask, not completely grasping the concept - the whole _reason_ behind buying the movie first.

She pursed her lips. "Read my lips, gremlin: we have security camera's _everywhere_. And by everywhere, I mean that we'll see if you pickpocket that movie and walk out of this store like nothing happened," she snapped at me, wrinkling her nose at me. "And you can tell all of your little street gang friends that we're not taking this crap, okay?"

I stared at her, shutting the movie case slowly. I really, really wanted someone to spend Valentines Day with. And, without this movie, I'd never know if this mystery guy could be that guy. I looked down at the movie, before looking back at the woman, rolling my eyes at her.

"Fine," I sighed, turning around and heading to the cash register. "I'll pay for this stupid movie." I growled, rounding the shelf corner and practically _crashing_ into the checkout counter. This store _really _needed to learn how to make space.

The teenage boy behind the counter - probably no older than myself - looked at me, and than at the movie in my hand. "Oh, you're buying this?" he asked; but there was a tint of worry in his voice, like he really didn't want me buying this movie.

I tapped the counter. "Yes," I answered plainly, almost with an annoyed tone. I already was hassled by that random worker (I'd make sure to tell some of my friends to come back and bother this lady later), so I wasn't looking forward to a round of twenty questions with this kid.

He nodded, before lowering the movie, almost out of my eyesight, and quickly opening the movie case, swiping something yellow out of it almost too quickly. My eyes widened - _the note! _- and I realized that this teenage boy must be the mystery boy's messenger-like person - like how Tina was for me.

"Wait!" I hissed, causing him to pause from sticking the note underneath the counter. "I'm buying that movie for…that boy," I than realized that I wasn't really making sense. "For that boy who has my blue notebook." I clarified, hoping that this boy knew what I was talking about.

He looked around, as if this were a secret investigation. "Okay," he sighed, slowly unsticking the sticky note and handing it over to me. "And he told me to give you the notebook, too," he added, disappearing behind his counter and handing me my blue notebook, the one Rachel had gotten me.

I took it from his hands; it felt different now. I couldn't explain it fully, but perhaps the fact that it was held by the boy who could be my Valentines Day buddy - I wasn't sure what to call him yet - this year.

"Thanks," I said, giving the boy and nod. I looked back to the movie that lay on the counter top, sighed, and got ready to hand over some of my money, until the teenage boy took the movie for me, waving his hand.

"Don't worry about it," he said, shaking his head. "Just take the notebook and the note and go, well, before Angie comes over and decides that you're loitering here." He informed me, cracking a small smile.

I let out a relieved sigh that I didn't have to pay ten bucks for a movie that I wasn't going to watch, nodding at the boy. "Thank you so much," I said breathlessly to him, grabbing the movie and walking out of the store quickly, giving the woman named Angie a glare as I left.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I watched the cars pass by, waiting for a pause in the street life. As soon as the pause came, I walked across the street, passing by the Dunkin Donuts and toward the small group of benches by the water fountain. I sighed, picking a bench in the middle of the pack.

I picked up the note first; it only held a few sentences, much to my displeasure:

_Sorry if Angie made you pay for this movie (she's real nasty, isn't she?) But anyway, if Trent has given you the notebook back, than congratulations!_

I raised an eyebrow, my lip quirking into a scowl. This guy seemed awfully cheerful and excited. But, of course, I read on without a second thought.

_Since we'll be playing this game for a little while, why don't you tell me about your worst Valentines Day, in celebration to the holiday? (But you can't say that it's this one!)_

_When you're done with the answer, give the notebook back to Trent!_

_- You'll Find Out Soon_

I looked at the note for a moment longer, at the neat handwriting that it was written in. I blinked for a moment, unsure of what to put down just yet. I bit my lip, not yet sure if I wanted to use this memory, but opened the notebook anyway, up to the next, blank page, and flattening the page.

Grabbing a spare pen out of my wallet (I keep an extra pen handy in case I need to write something down), I clicked the top, scribbling down my answer.

_My worst Valentines Day experience? Well, it's sort of sad and it could bring you down…but you did ask for the worst, so I'll give it to you. _

_It was first grade. I was six - obviously - and I didn't know any better. I thought that Valentines Day was supposed to be the day that you could give some of the cute boys in your class a heartfelt card that only had their special message inside, and than give the girls a nice 'You're awesome!' on theirs. I really should've listened to my father; he'd told me the other day that I shouldn't do that, that some of the boys in my class wouldn't be so friendly back._

_And he was right. The boys in my class told me that I was icky (it was a pretty big insult at my elementary school, until we got to the end of the fifth grade and in middle school, and everyone started calling each other worse names). Everyone thought I was gross - except for my girl friends, that is. _

_It seems silly to be upset over some six year-old boys that teased me the rest of that year, until summer came along and we were mostly split up; that's when they forgot. But it just hurt. _

_I'm rambling now, but I think you know what it's like to have a lot of boys ridiculing you for being gay. It just irritates me now, mostly. _

_Well, anyway, that was my worst Valentines Day. I can't really say that this one is my worst yet, since it could be enjoyable with this little game we have going on, but I'll take your word for it and give the notebook back to Trent. _

_Oh, and game on. _


End file.
